


In other words, hold my hand

by peculiairyties (ItsAiryBro)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hajime discovers the eros of the hand, Humor, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, Valentine's Day, background MatsuHanaOi, it's really extremely sappy and corny, the eros of Daichi's hand specifically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAiryBro/pseuds/peculiairyties
Summary: Iwaizumi wants to make their first Valentine’s day together a memorable one, but more than that hereallywants to hold Daichi’s hands.For Daichi Valentine’s Weekend Day 1: Put your head on my shoulder ♡ Valentine’s flowers
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 67
Collections: Daichi Love Fest





	In other words, hold my hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bmmq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmmq/gifts).



> For the lovely Bmmq, who loves Daichi and his hands as much as I do (and as much as Hajime does). Thanks so much for cheering me on!  
> This started because a twitter thread about Daichi's hands in the S4 opening got a bit out of control. (and by out of control I mean I yelled about it for half an hour and then resolved to write a fic about it)

Daichi has really nice hands. _Really_ nice hands. 

Hajime has probably noticed it a lot of times before, but now the thought comes in and actually _registers_. It’s a _revelation_ ; like when you’ve been hearing a song one way for years before you actually see the lyrics and realise it’s _“entertain us”_ not _“in containers”_ and you sit there feeling like a goddamn moron for not having realised it before. 

It’s like that, but worse. 

Worse, because Daichi is his boyfriend and he’s supposed to have noticed something so important months ago when they first started dating. 

His mother used to say you could tell a lot about a person from their hands. They were one of the most essential tools that the human body had, after all. Everyone that had hands used them to do things for themselves, for others, for work or for play. You could tell—if not everything, then at least quite a bit—about a person based off their hands. 

Hands that are callused all over probably do a lot of manual labour. Hands that are callused on the tops of the palms probably drive a lot. Hands with no calluses don’t do much in the way of physical labour. Hands with skin peeling belong to someone that doesn’t care as much about themselves. Hands that are moisturized and neatly manicured belong to someone that invests in themselves. 

They’re just assumptions, but Hajime thinks there’s some truth to them. 

And it wasn’t just the condition of the hands, it was the hands themselves—broad, stubby, thin, long—it matched a person’s personality. 

If eyes were the window to a person’s soul, then their hands—their hands were the front door. 

And Daichi’s were solid and sturdy and welcoming and neatly kept. Daichi’s hands—touching them, being touched by them—felt like being welcomed home, welcomed into a sanctuary from the relentlessness of the world, anchored to stability and comfort and warmth and acceptance, anchored to _Daichi._

And it was the best feeling in the world. 

Daichi’s palms were littered with calluses from years of volleyball and driving and weight training, but his nails were always neatly trimmed and his skin was always warm and soft. 

If you judged only based off his hands, you could tell he liked to look presentable and neat, and cared about himself. 

If you _knew_ Daichi, you could also tell he was a creature of habit because he always trimmed his nails on Saturday morning, right after shaving. You could tell he was meticulous because he had _cuticle clippers_ , a fact Hajime teases him about just to see him pout and grumble about doing a thorough job and the pain of accidentally ripped cuticles. 

Anyway. 

Daichi has _really_ nice hands. 

The thought makes Hajime want to hold his hands all the time. 

\- 

Since the sudden realization that Daichi has really gorgeous hands, Hajime finds himself staring at them often. 

It didn’t matter what Daichi was doing, his hands were captivating. The way he held the knife when he chopped vegetables, the way his hand squeezed the suds out of the sponge when doing dishes, the way he held his pen as he wrote in the crossword, the way his hands settled on the steering wheel of the car, hell, the way he _folded laundry_ , even. Hajime had never noticed before, but Daichi made even the mundane everyday look titillatingly sensual. 

As Daichi carries on with whatever he’s doing, Hajime watches the bend and flex of elegant fingers and broad palms, which in turn draws his eyes to the grace of his wrists, the surety of his forearms, the bulge of muscle in his biceps, the sturdy, broad sweep of his shoulders. 

If he looks upwards, there’s his gorgeous neck, leading up to his handsome, sweet face. 

If he flicks his gaze downwards, then there’s more treasures to behold, his broad chest, his narrow waist, his round ass, his thick thighs, his shapely legs that Hajime more often than not wants to sink his teeth into, his— 

“Is something wrong?” 

Hajime startles out of his vaguely horny admiration of Daichi’s body. “Um, no?” 

Daichi doesn’t look convinced, but also looks down at his legs. “Is there something odd about my legs?” 

“No, it’s nothing, really. I promise.” 

“Okay, if you say so…” Daichi squints at him, but doesn’t press the issue further. 

Hajime mentally smacks himself and tries not to stare at Daichi (and his hands) for the rest of the day. 

He fails, but Daichi doesn’t notice, so it’s ok. Hajime resolves to try and hold his hands as much as he can moving forward. 

\- 

“Daichi has really nice hands.” 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, placing a hand on Hajime’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, but I really don’t wanna know your kinks.” 

Hajime sputtered and slammed his drink down. “That’s rich coming from a guy who leaves his _dildo_ out in the open!” 

“That was _one_ time and it was in the _bathroom!_ ” 

“It was right on the sink! You _knew_ I’d be coming over. You _knew_ I’d be stepping into the bathroom at some point!” 

From beside him, Matsukawa sighs. “Iwaizumi, it’s been eighty-four years. Give it a rest would you?”

Hajime shoots a caustic glare at Matsukawa. “So now that he’s your boyfriend you’re on his side?”

“Give it like, a couple months,” Hanamaki says, the straw of his drink still resting on his lips, “by then we’ll have him so hooked he won’t refuse sex no matter how we drag him.”

“ _Gross!_ ” Hajime yells at the same time as Oikawa squawks indignantly. Several people turn to look at their table, and they immediately simmer down. 

“Gross,” Hajime says again, just in case he hadn’t been clear enough the first time. “ _Don’t_ tell me these details. You guys are my brothers, and I don’t want to know these things about you.” 

“You’re such a prude, Iwaizumi.” Hanamaki smirks at him, since Matsukawa is busy trying to placate Oikawa, who looks like he doesn’t know if he wants to be scandalised or turned on. “We would love to know what you get up to with Sawamura in the bedroom… or the living room, or the kitchen, or the—”

“Shut up.” Hajime glares at him even as he feels his earlobes go hot. “Shut up, I’d never talk about Daichi like that.”

“Good because I don’t want to know!” Oikawa huffs, which comes out a little odd sounding because Matsukawa is pinching his cheeks.

“How did we even get to this point in the conversation,” Matsukawa puts in before Hanamaki can escalate, his hand still on Oikawa’s face. “We were talking about Valentine’s day plans.”

“Iwa-chan started it with the hand talk,” Oikawa points out, always happy to blame things on Hajime.

Hajime pulls a face at him. “I don’t even remember why that topic came up. And besides, you were the one that made it weird.” He sighs. “Why can’t we have _one_ normal conversation in this family.” 

Matsukawa snorts. “Iwaizumi, come on. Have you seen who’s in this family?”

Hajime sighs again before he takes a deep breath and claps his hands once. “But anyway, Valentines day. I don’t know what to do for Daichi. Give me your best ideas. Your best _sensible_ ideas.” 

“Aw.” Hanamaki pouts and continues to blow bubbles into his iced tea. “I was gonna say you should get take out and have My Heart Will Go On - Recorder By Candlelight by Matt Mulholland playing in the background the whole time.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Can we do that for our date?” Oikawa asks. Hajime can’t tell if he’s being serious.

“Aw babe I’m glad you think it’s a cool idea,” Makki grins and pinches Oikawa’s cheek. “But me and your Mattsun already got a much better date planned for you.”

Oikawa, that smitten bastard, fucking blushes. Matsukawa coos and pinches Oikawa’s other cheek. Hajime makes a gagging motion off to the side.

“Don’t be jealous Iwa chaan~” Oikawa smirks. His cheeks are super red in two different spots. 

“We’re not accepting anyone else into our harem, sorry bro.”

“Good because I’m not interested anyway.” 

The conversation devolves again after that. Hajime doesn’t bring up valentines day again, resigned to the fact that he’s probably going to have to come up with something himself.

-

“So,” Hajime starts, getting comfortable on the Tattoo chair, “What are your plans for Valentines day?”

It startles a laugh out of Daichi. “You’re the fourth person that’s asked me that this week.”

Hajime’s smirk slides right off his face. “What the fuck?” 

Daichi laughs some more and reaches for some gloves from the box hanging on the wall. Hajime watches him put them on, and the quick, efficient tug and snap of his black nitrile gloves over his hands is _incredibly_ sexy. 

“Are you mad you’re not the first, or are you mad people asked?”

“Both!” Hajime huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a professional. People have no respect.”

“As I recall,” Daichi says, smirking, “You asked me out when you were a client too.”

“That was different.” He unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall open so Daichi can prep his skin. “We were friends before I was your client.”

“We hardly spoke before you got your first tattoo.” Daichi rolls his eyes. “And I’m sure I remember Oiakwa saying you only came to me for a tattoo because you had the hots for me and didn’t know how to ask me out.”

“Look,” Hajime says, making a mental note to box Oikawa’s ears the next time he sees him, “you liked me too so it all worked out, right?”

“I guess.”

“You _guess?_ ” Hajime snorts. “Well if all you can do is _guess_ after eight months of dating, no special Valentine’s dinner for you.” 

“What? No! Valentine’s dinner is my right, you can’t take that from me!” Daichi protests, scrubbing just a little bit harder with the alcohol pad than he has to.

Hajime hisses at the rough treatment. “First you _guess_ that things worked out between us, and now you’re trying to scrape my skin off? You’re so cruel today, Daichi.” 

“You started it,” Daichi shrugs, the teasing glint back in his eye as he tosses the pad in the bin. He picks up the razor and then looks at Hajime’s chest, expression serious as he takes stock of his work area, and Hajime flexes his pecs for Daichi’s viewing pleasure. 

Daichi’s lips purse together in an effort to maintain a professional facade, which is bullshit considering he hasn’t been professional for a single minute since Hajime set foot in the booth today. 

“Like what you see?” Hajime taunts, folding his arms upwards so his hands are behind his head, putting his guns on full display.

The corner of Daichi’s lips pull upwards deviously, and Hajime scrambles to interrupt: “If you say _‘I guess’_ again I swear to _god_ , Daichi—” 

“I wasn’t gonna,” Daichi snickers, holding Hajime still with a hand on his sternum while he carefully runs the razor across his chest with the other. “I’m not _that_ cruel, you know. And I actually do want that dinner.” 

“That makes me feel so special.” Hajime rolls his eyes but smiles fondly at his boyfriend’s profile as he shaves then cleans the area. 

“Good, because you’re _very_ special.” Daichi pecks him on the cheek before going to fetch the transfer paper he’d prepared earlier, and Hajime watches as he works quickly and efficiently, focusing on the fluid movements of his hands as he applies it to his skin and readies it for tattooing, then getting his inks and needles prepared with just as much efficiency. 

As he gets into the zone, Daichi goes silent, save for the faint humming that matches the song playing at a low volume through the shop’s speakers. His hands are steady, his touch sure. His left hand is splayed over Hajime’s heart, a small pad soaked with green soap tucked under his thumb, while his right hand holds the tattoo machine, carefully working over the lines of the stencil.

It’s a small tattoo, a simple, black anchor just a little sideways to his heart, at the top of his right pectoral. Daichi doesn’t know, but the anchor is a tribute to him, and how he always keeps Hajime grounded. He’s not sure he’ll tell Daichi that any time soon, because it’s a little concerning when someone gets a tattoo on behalf of someone after knowing them for barely a year, but he’ll probably tell him a couple years down the road when they’re snuggled in bed on a Sunday morning making idle talk. 

It’s pretty ridiculous, but Hajime’s gut instinct says they will still be snuggling in bed on Sunday mornings for many years to come.

When it’s done, Daichi wraps it up and starts putting his things away, and Hajime sits up, buttoning his shirt and once again following the trajectory of Daichi’s hands. He pulls the gloves off with a snap, and really, why is that particular action so damn enticing?

“You’re all set,” Daichi announces, coming to stand in front of Iwaizumi once his workstation has been neatened up again. “Thank you for your business.”

Hajime leans in to give him a quick peck on the lips, but Daichi follows when he pulls back, so he goes in for it, hands moving to cradle his face as they share a long, lingering and sweet kiss.

“I feel very thoroughly thanked.” 

“Good, that was the intention,” Daichi says, and then his eyes flick downward almost bashfully. “I don’t have any plans for Valentine’s, so if you wanted to do something we could, but you also don’t have to go out of your way for it or anything.” 

Hajime’s breath leaves him in a fond sigh. “How considerate of you,” he teases, his hand automatically reaching for Daichi’s. “But it’s no hassle. I was thinking we could do dinner and a movie at my place, but if you want to go out somewhere I’ll make reservations for wherever you want.” 

“Dinner at home sounds nice.”

“Good, then 7pm on the 14th. It’s a date.”

Daichi smiles at him, revealing a dimple in his right cheek. “I look forward to it.”

-

Hajime had wrestled with date ideas for a while because he wanted their first Valentine’s together to be memorable, or at the very least _special_. He pored over suggestions online but it looked like everyone was also doing the same thing, because a lot of the fancy dinner places were already booked up and all the good events were sold out. He didn’t want to do movies because the point was to spend quality time together, not stare at a screen in silence. 

He’d mulled over a simple, at-home date for the longest time, debating the pros and cons. The pros were that Hajime could cook something delicious (or at least order take out) and they could have a cozy time cuddled on his couch while they watched one of Daichi’s favourite movies, uninterrupted by the outside world.

The cons were that it was _too_ simple, too lowkey. They had cozy date nights in every so often already, and he wanted to put in some _effort_. 

He hated having to do it but he called his mother to ask for suggestions, and after 5 minutes of mutual heckling, she just told him to go on Pinterest to look up Valentine’s decor ideas. 

And pinterest turned out a little more useful than he thought, even if he’d never tell her that. 

-

Hajime opens his front door at precisely 6:59pm to wait, and just as he expects, Daichi turns into the hallway at precisely 7:00pm.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is the huge bouquet of flowers that Daichi is carrying in his arms.

“Happy Valentine’s,” Daichi sing-songs as he hands the bouquet of sunflowers and red roses in a sleek white vase over to Hajime, who’s staring at it with his mouth hanging open.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he mumbles, trying to hide his red face inside a particularly large sunflower.

“This is a mutual gift-giving kind of occasion, you know,” Daichi says, stepping past Hajime and into the apartment, taking his shoes off to slip into his house slippers. “Do you not like it? I got some fancy whiskey too, as a backup gift.”

How is this man _real_? How did Hajime end up so goddamn _lucky_? “Of course I like it! I’m not gonna say no to fancy whiskey, though.” 

Daichi laughs. “I know you’d never—wait, why is it so dark in here?”

Hajime smirks and sidles up behind Daichi to kiss his temple, and then his cheek before moving to the switch panel. “So I can do this,” he says, and flicks a switch, keeping an eye on Daichi’s face.

As the fairy lights blink on in a multitude of muted golds and pinks, Daichi’s eyes grow bigger and bigger, and now it’s his turn to watch slack-jawed.

“Nice, right?” Hajime can’t help it when a little bit of smugness creeps into his his voice as he walks back to Daichi and takes his hand. “Come on, we’re not even at the main event yet.”

“There’s _more_?” Daichi sputters, letting Hajime lead him down the path illuminated by the lights that leads to the kitchen. 

“Do you want to close your eyes so it’s even more surprising?”

Daichi snorts. “Sure, why the hell not.”

Hajime wraps an arm around his shoulder and gently presses his hand to Daichi’s eyes. “No peeking,” he murmurs, and feels satisfaction course through him as Daichi shivers.

When they get to the entryway of his kitchen/dining room, Hajime drops his hand. “Okay, look.”

Daichi opens his eyes and laughs. “Oh my god, Hajime!”

The kitchen is done up in fewer lights than the living room, but the dining table is the centerpiece, covered with a lacy table cloth and laid out like a Michelin starred restaurant, with candles and wine glasses and white ceramic plates. The silverware gleams in the flickering candle light, and in the middle of the table is a variety of food, from dumplings to karaage to small bowls of ramen.

Hajime is quite pleased with himself, and gets progressively more smug as he notices how delighted Daichi looks at the spread in front of him.

“Did you get out your nice kitchenware for me?” he asks and Hajime laughs. 

“Only the best for you, Daichi.”

He ushers him over to the table with a flourish, setting the vase down a little off to the side, and pulls the chair out for him before going to sit down.

“I never knew you were capable of such extreme corniness, Hajime.”

“Extreme romanticness, you mean.”

“That’s not a word, is it?”

“I think it might be,” Hajime shrugs easily, smiling. They start portioning out food and settle in to eat. Everything about the moment is soft, from the gentle candlelight to the scrape of chopsticks on the plates. Daichi is the softest though, the angles and edges of his face and hands smoothed out into by the golden lights around them, like a dream. His eyes are crinkled a little at the corners, and he looks like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, even if they aren’t doing anything particularly interesting.

He’s startled out of his cheesy thoughts when Daichi hooks his foot around Hajime’s ankle.

“I know I look gorgeous, but you’re making me a little self conscious here,” he says, his hand propped on his cheek, gaze fond.

“Sorry,” Hajime chuckles. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself and it made me happy.”

Daichi’s skin flushes, almost imperceptible in the candlelight, but Hajime’s been staring long enough to notice the change in colour. “I am. I’m really… this is so amazing, Hajime. Thanks for doing all this. I would have been happy just to spend time with you but I’m really blown away that you did all this for me. I have to do better next time.”

The words ‘next time’ makes Hajime’s heart do funny things inside his chest. “I’ll be looking forward to it, then.”

Daichi’s leg winds itself around both of Hajime’s, and they eat dinner like that, passing over bits of veggies they know the person likes better, their conversation easy and trivial. When they polish off every last piece of food, Hajime tells Daichi to stay put and keep his eyes closed while he preps dessert.

“Don’t look,” he reminds him again, carefully swirling whipped cream on top and pushing a few sticks of chocolate and strawberry pocky into it.

“I’m not!” Daichi protests, and when Hajime turns to look at him he really is sitting there with his hands covering his face like a dutiful child playing hide and seek. Dork.

He lifts the glass and carefully places it on a tray to bring it over to the table, and when it’s finally safely set down, he says “Ta-da!!”

Daichi opens his eyes and literally squeaks at the sight of the magnificent glass of milkshake. “Hajime!”

“Wait I’m not done yet.”

“You’re _not_?” 

“No,” Hajime smirks, and pulls out two fancy heart-shaped drinking straws, and puts them in the glass. “Ta-da!!”

Daichi starts laughing. “Oh my god you literal cheeseball!”

Hajime moves his chair around to drink from the glass together, and they giggle and snicker like teenagers on their first date as they close their lips around their straws. Daichi smacks him on the thigh when he drinks too much and Hajime chokes a little when he drinks and snorts at the same time. It becomes an impromptu contest to see who can drink more faster, and by the time they’re slurping up the dregs from the bottom, both of them have tears in their eyes.

“It was supposed to be romantic!” Hajime gasps between peals of laughter, shaking Daichi by his shirt collar. “You jackass!”

“You started to suck it down like a fucking siphon! What was I supposed to do, drink the whipped cream?”

Hajime snickers and plucks a pocky from the mess of whipped cream at the bottom of the glass. He nibbles the tip of the snack before pressing it to Daichi’s bottom lip. “Maybe you could have let me have some, considering all the effort I put into tonight.”

Daichi holds Hajime’s hand and finishes the pocky in two bites. “Maybe you could have gotten us separate glasses then, if you didn’t want me drinking it all.”

“You’re a greedy little shit.”

“ _You’re_ a sore loser.” 

While they trade jabs, Hajime continues to feed Daichi the pocky till they’re all gone, then they sit in silence for a moment, looking at each other, holding hands in the candlelight. 

“That was so much fun.” Daichi smiles, hand firm and warm around Hajime’s own.

“It was.” He smiles back, trying not to get too caught up in the feeling of Daichi’s hands on his. It’s a regular enough occurrence and he does a good job of not letting it bother him too much, but the atmosphere right now is so intimate and tender, and it makes him feel altogether overwhelmed.

So he decides to get on with the program.

“Hey,” he says, feeling self conscious for the first time that evening. “Will you dance with me?”

Daichi blinks once, surprised, and then his expression softens into something pleased and just the littlest bit shy. “I’m not really good at that, but I want to dance with you anyway.”

Hajime pretends like he hasn’t just been lanced through the heart and stands, moving the table a closer to the wall so they have more space. He pulls up a ridiculous, old-timey playlist on his phone and connects to his audio system, and when the music starts, he holds his hand out to Daichi, looking at him expectantly.

Daichi laughs and shakes his head, like he can’t believe Hajime isn’t done being corny for the night already. He takes his hand in his anyway, and steps into Hajime’s personal space. With one hand occupied, Hajime rests his other on Daichi’s hip, and Daichi places his own on Hajime’s lower back. What they’re doing can’t even really be classified as dancing; they’re just kind of swaying in place to the sprightly saxophone and Frank Sinatra’s voice. They’re touching from chest to knee and Daichi grins at him so wide Hajime can see his missing tooth.

Hajime is charmed all over again.

“ _Fill my heart with song and let me sing for evermore,_ ” Daichi sings softly, lifting Hajime’s hand to spin him. It startles a laugh out of him and he pauses and pulls Daichi closer and spins him in turn when the music swells boisterously. Hajime’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and it occurs to him he hasn’t felt so carefree and joyful in a while. He hopes Daichi is having just as much fun as he is. 

“ _In other words, please be truuue,_ ” he sings between chuckles. “ _In other words, I love you!_ ” 

Daichi leans up at the same moment Hajime leans down, and they smile into the kiss, and they stay that way for a moment, til the next song starts up, something softer and slower. Hajime would have been content to kiss through the entirety of this song as well, but Daichi gets them moving again, kissing the corner of his mouth and under his jaw when Hajime makes a small, disappointed grumble.

Hajime moves his hands so he’s holding onto Daichi’s, their fingers entwined, palms touching. 

“I’m so glad you agreed to go out with me,” Hajime murmurs, barely audible over the singer. “I—being with you makes me incredibly happy. I love you, Daichi.”

Daichi squeezes their hands together, laying his head on Hajme’s shoulder. “You make me happy too,” he says softly. “Thanks for asking me out. I love you too, very much.”

Hajime can’t resist himself when he lifts one set of their joined hands to his lips, placing kisses on Daichi’s knuckles and the tips of his fingers as they continue to slowly sway to the sweet words being sung. 

As the song winds to a close, Hajime murmurs the song into Daichi’s fingers. “ _Whisper in my ear, baby,_ ”

Daichi continues, singing into his neck. “ _Words I want to hear, baby_ ,”

_ “Put your head on my… shoulder.” _

The next song starts, but this time they don’t move, content to stand there in the stillness of Hajime’s candle-lit kitchen, tucked into each other so close they can feel their hearts beating through their skin. Hajime’s lips are still pressed to Daichi’s knuckles.

“Hajime,” Daichi says softly, and continues when he gets a soft hum in response. “You’ve been pretty fixated on my hands lately.”

Hajime flinches and clears his throat. “You see…”

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Wheee I'm finally finished with this!! I always have fun when i write but don't think i've actually grinned so much in a while. Their whole date was just soooo schmoopy and gross and adorable. I'm really happy.  
> Title from none other than Fly me to the moon.  
> Comments are very appreciated :) Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ItsAiryBro) or ask me stuff on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/ItsAiryBro)!


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